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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

"Two or three more dances before we go mingle and try to find some of our contacts?"

"I think so," Adrianne agreed. They were supposed to be a couple in love enjoying their first ball in Luthadel, after all. It would make sense for them to get lost in each other's eyes or some such nonsense and dance the first few dances nonstop before breaking away for a breather and some socializing. Plus, it would give them longer to decide whom they would approach first.

It was harder for her to summon a convincing smile than it apparently was for Tristand, but she managed well enough. This time, all she had to do was call to mind the face he'd made earlier today when she won the duel that had decided his wardrobe. And the way he'd fussed over his cravat once she'd finally dressed him. It might have been endearing, if he weren't, well, Tristand.

Really though, for all he hemmed and hawed, Adrianne could hardly believe the difference it made. He wasn't slouching like he usually did, but if anything, his straight-backed posture and the clean, sharp lines of his suit only accentuated what remained of his characteristic nonchalance. His tousled hair certainly helped with that - even Adrianne hadn't dared to even attempt changing Tristand's hair - as did that damnable moustache. It was a striking contrast.

Then there was, of course, the fact that she couldn't recall ever seeing him in anything that actually fit properly. The calculated disarray of his usual attire had masked the set of his shoulders, and the fact that he could have quite the commanding posture if he really wanted to and Lord Ruler what am I doing? Letting her thoughts wander about Tristand's shoulders, of all things!

It was pretty striking, though. Too bad she likely couldn't force this wager on him ever again.

Her forced smile slipped as she forced herself yet again to think of something else. Like... the candles maybe. These candles really were beautiful, distraction or not. They covered the entire ballroom in a hazy, golden glow that made the whole evening feel like a completely different world.

Which was, unfortunately, also a dangerous train of thought, as her mind drifted back to what else felt like something out of a different world. Ruler's ashes; she really couldn't control herself tonight, could she? And worse, she was never going to live this down if Tristand caught on.

Ulrich played piano on the dining table. His fingers tapping out a beautiful staccato melody he had decided to dub Boredom. If people listening only heard a loud, discordant drumming of fingers on wood well, there was no accounting for taste.

Still, as beautiful as this piece was turning out to be--truly some of his best work so far--there was the slight possibility that he also just very much wanted to go somewhere and do something of which he had very little concrete idea of at the moment but was quite sure that he would be able to make up as he went along. So long as he went along somewhere that was not this table, with his father gazing at the crowd with detached disinterest, his gaze unfocused in the reminiscing way that Ulrich was all too familiar with.

Interrupting a reverie was never a good idea. Not because it made his father mad, or anything. But there was always an unsettling distance in Niklaus' eyes after a reverie. Like he was miles and miles away somewhere that Ulrich never wanted to see. It was not a good look to receive, especially when one was excited and bubbly and very much ready to go dance if only his father would just notice him long enough to say it was alright and really at this point how awful could the look be? He'd imagined about it enough to dull the blow.

"Father?" He asked.

Niklaus started slightly and turned to look at him. The gaze was there, distant, foreboding, then he blinked and it cleared away. Ulrich did his best to shake off the memory.

"Yes?"

"Uh... well, everyone's dancing now."

Niklaus looked at the small sea of people quickly filling the dance floor, his voice was dry as a bone when he spoke, "So I can see."

"But I'm not dancing."

"Yes."

"And shouldn't I be... part of 'everyone'?"

His father's gaze settled on him, but the look was very different than usual. He was... amused? "Ulrich, you don't have to ask my permission."

"I don't? But all the other times you told me to wait until you said I could."

"That was because you wanted to go before the dancing started."

Ulrich's fingers stilled their madcap playing on the table as he stared at Niklaus with a slight bit of wonder, "So that means I can go?"

His father only raised one thick brow and continued staring at him. Ulrich took it as his queue to leave, bounding out of his chair and sweeping into the throng of people. He was searching for his favorite cousin, but one of the many close seconds he possessed showed up first. He swept up to Broderick with a grin, "Cousin! How are you? Have you seen Isabelle?"

Daerra had just made her excuses to Broderick when he heard a familiar voice at his side. Ulrich had come out of nowhere, asking him where to find some girl.

"Who?" he asked, dumbfounded, before the obvious answer hit him square in the face. "Oh. Right. Isabelle. You remember I don't actually know her, right?" For all they were cousins, and for all Ulrich talked about this Isabelle person so fondly, they'd never actually met. Something about Sureaus and Ventures not really getting along. Still, the opportunity to cover his retreat was enticing. For all Daerra had given him an easy out, Ulrich had given him the means to excuse himself on his own terms.

And so he returned his attention to his present companions, giving Daerra a gentlemanly bow and Aldwin a proper gentlemanly nod, which just made Aldwin grin for some reason. "Lady Daerra, you know I couldn't deny you such a reasonable request, and it seems my young cousin requires my assistance anyway. I bid you the best of evenings, and you too, Aldwin. Try not to get into too much trouble without me."

Aldwin just grinned all the wider, which was simultaneously promising and concerning. Well, it was no problem of his for the moment, thanks to Ulrich. He felt bad for leaving the group, but at the same time, he'd done his part. Aldwin and Nevan were grown men, and more than capable of taking care of themselves. Especially for the few minutes it would take him to help his kid cousin find someone.

So he just shook his head at Aldwin and turned back to Ulrich. "Right, then. Let's go find this cousin of yours."

And just like that, they were off, Broderick leading Ulrich through the sea of people and away from the hot seat as quickly as polite company would allow. The crowd, for the most part, parted easily for a pair of Ventures, and it wasn't long before they were safely away. Only then did he finally stop, off near the side of the room, for them to get their bearings.

"You, my dear boy, have excellent timing. Now then. Do you know whom your Cousin might have come with? I know she's not with Aveline, because the old trio got back together for some reason. Avoid them, by the way. They're in fine form tonight."

Aaron felt his grin widen slightly at the sight of the mischievous curl in Adala's lip. There was no greater pleasure than making a pretty woman smile, especially when that woman also had an entertaining amount of wit. "If a charitable spirit is what provides me with a dance, then it's a good thing for my family that I am not in charge of house finances yet, for I would surely run our business endeavors into the ground if only to become a more charitable case." Aaron accepted Adala's hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze as he led her on to the dance floor. He spoke quickly, trying to keep his own thoughts and insecurities at in check by focusing on his word play.

"I suppose I should be grateful that, for now, my current individual state of wretchedness was sufficient to garner your sympathies and secure me a dance."

Aldwin watched the crowd swallow Broderick and Ulrich, grinning all the while. Don't get in trouble, Broderick had said. Hah! That sounded like a challenge, and with Daerra for a dance partner, he wouldn't even have to try in order to rise to the occasion. Maybe he'd get thrown in another fountain. It didn't matter that this venue didn't have one inside; if Daerra wanted him thrown into a fountain, she'd probably just snap her fingers and a bunch of Mistborn would show up out of nowhere and heave him off over the terrace.

Part of him was almost tempted to test that hypothesis. Almost.

He'd be sent for a swim regardless if he just ignored her, though. And besides, it would be quite ungentlemanly of him to keep staring off after his other cousins when he had one right here in front of him, waiting to dance.

"There now," he said with a grin, "Seems we've been left to our own devices. If you would do me the honor, my dearest of cousins?"

He bowed with an elaborate flourish, extending his hand for Daerra to take. She would see right through his shenanigans, of course, but that didn't mean that he shouldn't enjoy them.

Daerra ignored Ulrich's failure to make a proper introduction, or even to acknowledge to presence of two highly ranked Great House nobility, and instead smiled pleasantly as Broderick excused himself. The boy had only debuted recently, and so Daerra was not as familiar with him as she was with the other Ventures, and she had not yet made his acquaintance. While his obvious immaturity and apparent proclivity for social faux pas was not encouraging, Daerra resolved to devote further study to the boy at a later date, or at least find out who 'Isabelle' was, just in case he might be able to factor into her plans. His relationship to Broderick, one of Nevan Venture's closest family members, was of interest in its own right. If Daerra recalled correclty, Ulrich's grandmother had been an Elariel, and sister to Daerra's own grandfather, Lord Anton Elariel. That made the two of them second cousins, and though Daerra was not familiar with the specifics of the Venture family tree, she was reasonably certain she might be more closely related to the boy than Broderick was.

Once Broderick had taken his leave, Daerra returned Aldwin's mischievous grin in kind. She took his offered hand and allowed him to lead her out on to the dance floor, sparing a casual but triumphant glance in Aveline's direction, just in case the Sureau heir was watching.

"So, I'm the 'Dearest of Cousins' am I?" While she debated ignoring the empty flattery for what it us, Daerra decided that some mirthful banter would be the best way to set Aldwin at ease, and make him easier to maneuver. "We shall have to be careful not to let my brother or Lady Sanna find out you've bestowed such an illustrious title upon me, or they might be overcome with jealousy."

Marceline tried her best to keep her cool as she approached the moment where she had to finally reveal her plotting to Ferrah. It was more nerve-wracking than she had thought it would be, and it actually made her forget about Felix and how he was talking to a girl right now and she was so much prettier than Marceline would ever be.....

Pulling herself back to the conversation, Marceline took a deep breath and solidified her smile. "I am sure that you will just love getting to talk to this particular nobleman. He is, in fact, not all that far away, so it will not even be that hard for you to track him down...." She wanted to pressure Ferrah into asking him soon, as he looked busy and would inevitably shoot her down, and if he didn't then it would not be an enjoyable dance at all because if he was looking for someone, he wouldn't be able to spend enough energy on Ferrah. But Ferrah was definitely going to get her revenge and Marceline was almost considering running away while Ferrah was gone from the table. It wouldn't stop the revenge, but it would at least put it off until later.

"The nobleman whom you have bought from me is Alistair Casuana." Marceline said before she could keep thinking about the consequences of her actions. Ferrah's reaction and almost certain humiliation would be enough justification for her. "You have to admit, he is quite the specimen, with his blunt inattention to frivolity and his status..."

Ferrah was getting bored of Marceline's innane comments. Spit it out already! Ferrah was about to interrupt to hurry things along when she finally got her wish.

"The nobleman whom you have bought from me is Alistair Casuana," Marceline blurted. Ferrah's eyes widened in surprise. How had she allowed herself to purchase Alistair Casuana of all people? Not only was Casuana one of Hasting's largest political rivals, his recent disgrace at his family's own ball would make dancing with him incredibly embarrassing for Ferrah. After everything Marceline had gone through, Ferrah could not believe she was still willing to provoke her further with such an outrageous sale.

"You have to admit," Marceline was saying,"He is quite the specimen, with his blunt inattention to frivolity and his status." Ferrah's eyes slid over to where Alistair was conversing with Camille Deveaux of all people. The sister of the Deveaux heir was known to be an incurable gossip, meaning Ferrah's humiliation could become the talk of the town. Unless... Perhaps, if she provided Camille with enough of a distraction, she could minimize the damage to her reputation.

Ferrah forced a tight smile, not wanting to give Marceline the satisfaction of seeing her shock and panic. "A lovely dance partner indeed." Ferrah allowed her gaze to slide across the dance floor, and then jumped slightly, as if noticing something for the first time. "Oh, but I've just realized that your partner is uncharacteristically unoccupied at the moment. Normally I'd say we should all dance one at a time, but there are only so many dances, and I don't want you to miss out on your chance to dance with the fine specimen I sold you earlier. Why don't we acquire our purchases at the same time, hmm?" As she spoke, Ferrah slowly began to feel more in control of the situation, and her smile shifted from forced to smug. "Marceline, you will have the pleasure of asking none other than Nevan Venture, the most eligible bachelor in Luthadel, to dance. You can thank me later."

Marceline was proud of the reaction that she got out of Ferrah, and for a moment it outshone the growing dread that she was now going to pay for it. But Ferrah could not make it so bad that it didn't make seeing her actually surprised worth it. Or, at least, Marceline was almost positive that it would still have been worth it. That thought made Marceline almost regret her decision. Almost.

"Oh, but I've just realized that your partner is uncharacteristically unoccupied at the moment. Normally I'd say we should all dance one at a time, but there are only so many dances, and I don't want you to miss out on your chance to dance with the fine specimen I sold you earlier. Why don't we acquire our purchases at the same time, hmm?" Ferrah was saying, and Marceline really began to dread the revelation. She had thought she would at least get to see Ferrah humiliated before having to face whomever Ferrah had lined up for her. However, she steeled herself so that Ferrah would not get the satisfaction of seeing her in distress, and, for the most part, it worked. "Marceline, you will have the pleasure of asking none other than Nevan Venture, the most eligible bachelor in Luthadel, to dance. You can thank me later."

Marceline knew that there was no way she could have hid all of her reaction, but at least she had been prepared for the worst and this was only a little worse than that. At least he was attractive? And no one cared much about her, so the most that could happen would just be humiliation in the group, or so she hoped. Wasn't he supposed to be nice? So as long as she wasn't too scared, he'd probably let her down easy? Or what if he actually said yes???? That would be terrible, but he probably wouldn't so she didn't really have to worry about that, she thought.

None of this did anything to help her ignore the fact that now she had to ask Nevan Venture, not only someone far, far above her station, but someone who also happened to be one hundred percent the wrong person for her to ever be seen talking, much less dancing, with. If her mother ever found out, she would never hear the end of it....

Controlling her face as much as she could, she smiled a little bit and nodded. She just wanted to get this over with. "That sounds like a fine proposition to me. You had better hurry if you are to catch Lord Alistair before the dance is over. He seems in quite a rush and you wouldn't want him to become occupied with anyone else before you have the chance to ask him..." Marceline stood up and looked over to where Nevan was. Without any further conversation, she walked away from the table towards him, hoping to hide in the crowd and prepare herself without Ferrah watching her like a vulture. She didn't care if it seemed a little abrupt, Ferrah had probably gotten the reaction that she wanted and Marceline just didn't want to have to be around her anymore.

She found a spot near Nevan, but far enough away from her...friends to be seen, and took a deep breath. She could do this. Marceline pushed some of her hair away from her face and put on a smile, readying herself to walk over to Nevan with determination. She could totally do this.

Alistair finally left, looking more determined than he had been during their conversation. It would be interesting to see the results of her encouragement. She could only hope, though, that she wasn't meddling where she shouldn't. Still, her instincts rarely led her wrong, and her instincts had told her to encourage Alistair.

Finally, she was able to return to Nevan, right where she had left him, admiring a stained glass window. She had almost reached him when something caught her attention: a girl, standing at the edge of the crowd, fixing her hair and smiling eagerly.

And she was looking right at Nevan.

Lord Ruler, she left him unattended for a few minutes and this happened? That engagement couldn't come soon enough! Though that likely wouldn't stop a few of the more determined women who didn't mind being mistresses in order to share a bed with someone powerful, it would stop starstruck middling debutantes from thinking they had a chance with Luthadel's most eligible bachelor.

Without hastening her pace, she finally made it back to Nevan and slipped her arm through his.

"I promised I'd be quick, didn't I?" she asked with a smile, her heart speeding up a little when she noticed how he lit up when he saw her.

"That you did. How was it? As painless as you hoped?"

"Indeed. Lord Alistair is looking to reunite with a lost love, it seems."

She shifted her glance back to the hopeless girl, looking her up and down with a keen, measuring gaze. Wasn't that Marceline Dumont, one of Colette's clock of magpies? What was she of all people doing off Colette's apron strings, and approaching Nevan no less? Perhaps it was one of the silly, girlish games they played with men's hearts instead of accomplishing anything meaningful. Well, that smile made her seem sweet enough on the outside, but she most certainly wasn't welcome here, friendly or not. Camille, done with her measuring, finally met the girl's eyes at last and gave her the most pleasant smile she could manage to drive the point home.

Jasun had always figured himself a realistic person. He thought himself someone who was rather well acquainted with the here and now, and not well versed in flights of fancy or daydreams. Yet, with every step to Lysette he took, he could not help but realize how very many times he’d imagined this moment. Every half remembered thought or vague daydream, every careful practiced idea of how and when he would approach her. They all rushed back to him as he walked across the ballroom, and he could not help but feel a sense of deep betrayal as his own imagination. So many different scenarios, and not one even close to the truth. What had his greatest fear been, before this? What bungling misstep or social faux pas had he imagined himself making? What petty things they were compared to now.

Now, reality was so sharp and clear and the truth of it all, the truth of it was that he was going to have to lie to Lysette, and he had no idea how to feel. He was a liar. He was a liar a cheat and a scoundrel and so many other things that he did not ever like to look at too closely, but he was none of them to Lysette. He’d never been. That was the point of it all, wasn’t? That was why she was so important, so special. Because around her he needed to be only Jasun. But now he would lie and the door was now open to the questions he had pushed away. Questions of the future and of his duties in it. He needed to lie now, would he have to again?

He’d known he’d have to kill, and even being prepared beforehand had done little to help. But now there were more questions, more burdens he was not prepared to think about piling down upon him as he walked. Each clamoring for his attention as the weight of it all was settling around him like—like a cloak, weighing down every step.

Then she saw him, and his mind went blank.

Their eyes met, and he smiled on reflex. It wasn’t brittle or shaky or anything but natural. He was looking at Lysette, he could not help but smile. Yet he felt a wall forming even as he did. A distance that only widened as he finally stopped in front of her and bowed.

“My lady, my name is Jasun Allard, might I know yours? It’s not often you see the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Just as she had built up the courage to walk towards Nevan, Camille Deveaux casually, and rather possessively, sailed over to Nevan and linked arms with him. Marceline stopped abruptly in her attempts to keep her courage up. All ideas of ever going through with this idiotic game ended when Camille Deveaux shot her what was perhaps the most terrifying smile Marceline had ever been on the receiving end of. She turned around and attempted to look casual as she moved not back to her spot with the clique, but away. Maybe she could lie and pretend that she had asked Nevan Venture to dance and he had said no.....

That left her rather aimless, however, and Marceline grew more and more uncomfortable as she realized that she was alone. This was perhaps the first time she had ever been alone at a ball since she had first debuted. It was terrifying and she wanted nothing more than to be back with a group. She didn't know what to do on her own. What did anyone do on their own at a ball? She was a woman, she couldn't initiate anything, she never had, and she didn't want to make any social mistakes....Marceline was terrified to find out that she didn't know who she was to society on her own. Part of her was angry at herself for being so lost without someone to follow, and part of her was intrigued by this freedom that she had away from Ferrah and Colette, even if she had no idea what to do with it.

As the pair of them spun, Tristand found it hard to keep his mind on the task at hand. He was usually very single-minded when it came to business. This night was entirely business, appearance, and showmanship. Except his mind was occupied with a letter from a family who rejected him. It was consuming him.

He had, at least, not brought the letter with him so he could stare at it in his hands all night.

Enough, Tristand.

Your father does deserve the time of day from the Lord Ruler's pocket watch.

He looked back at Adrianne, who seemed to be enjoying herself. She was smiling at least... and what was that?

She was staring at him.

Not at his eyes, which is where she should have been looking. They were supposed to be deeply in love, of course. They were supposed to be deep in the throes of their honeymoon. They had not been married all that long, and to the public's eye, it looked more like a marriage for love than one of strategy. That was an advantage that they agreed they should keep.

Instead of where she was supposed to be focused, she was looking at his shoulders. A very slow grin crept across Tristand's face. A mischievous grin, befitting and evil mastermind about to reveal his secret plot to take over all of Luthadel's ore business.

He spun Adrianne, several times and pulled her back to him, still grinning.

"My dear," he said quietly. "I do believe you were just observing the broadness of my shoulders." His mood was immediately improved. All thoughts of that blasted letter had been removed.

Lysette stood, a mocking smile on her face, as Jasun approached. Because of the company she kept, she was not able to let him see how excited she was to see him. Just the opposite actually. She was not supposed to want to dance with him. Simply because he was too far beneath her station. No one had ever heard of Allard.

"It's not often you see the most beautiful woman in the world"

Thank the Lord Ruler for makeup, because otherwise her blush would be visible to everyone in the room.

Lysette knew how true Jasun meant those words. He had said as such to her before, but in this setting, she had to overthink it. She knew that he was truthful, but the Lysette that everyone else saw would mock and reject him for such overt flattery.

Her mocking smile turned into a shrill giggle and she shook her head.

"Lord... Allard, you must be new to Luthadel, for I have not heard of your house. Not to mention that you would not recognize when someone is so far above your station to find you insignificant. Your attempt at flattery is truly lost on me," Lysette said. She batted her eyes, and gave him a very sweet smile.

She was glad that Denna had already decided to take Lysette's previous almost-dance partner (Felix Fathvell). None of the other girls with her were bold enough to try the same with Jasun. She glanced at them, noticing that they truly did want to be that bold. They were all trying to get his attention subtly. If Lysette were to reject, perhaps if he noticed one of them, he would ask instead of moving on to another group.

Inside a jealous flame burned brightly, even if she knew that Jasun would not ask them, and that she would accept his proposal to dance. She could not help it. This was the first time he saw her in the light. What if she dulled in comparison to how brightly she shined when they were alone in the mists? Jasun was going to have to live with this side of her, as well as who he had met in the night. She could not drop this façade, even if she tried. She would feel naked without it.

"But perhaps there is room in every evening for a bit of charity. I am Lysette Hasting, Lord Allard" She said, offering her hand to him after she curtsied.

Adrianne could feel the tension in Tristand's shoulders as they danced. But while a small amount wouldn't be completely unlike him, especially as focused as they both were on establishing good contacts in the capital, it was never this extreme. Was he worried about that blasted letter still? Well, it was no wonder, given what his father had done to him, but it was still frustrating. Even if their relationship were such that she could do anything about the stress it was causing him, it was neither the time nor the place to discuss such things.

But quite suddenly, he spun her, and when she fell back into hold, he was grinning like a devil. What in the world had changed so quickly?

"My dear, I do believe you were just observing the broadness of my shoulders."

Adrianne stumbled.

He helped her recover, of course, so that with one sweeping motion it barely looked like she had tripped at all. But he knew, which was almost worse than Luthadel knowing. No, looking at that devilish smirk, it was definitely worse than Luthadel knowing. People sometimes tripped on the dance floor, but Tristand knew why, and he would never let her live it down. It made her want to glare at him, but that would only dig her hole even deeper.

"I was just marveling that you have a coat that actually fits," she finally managed, almost suppressing the tinge of pink that had crawled into her cheeks. "I was beginning to think that you had them all tailored to look like they'd been slept in, just so you could never be roped into dressing like this."

Ferrah's eyes flitted back and forth between where Marceline was approaching Nevan Venture, and where Camille Deveaux stood with Alistair Casuana. Would Camille notice? There was only so much time Ferrah could delay before the other girls would expect her to go seek Alistair out. Part of her itched to use allomancy. She could soothe away Camille's concern and hesitation, make her more likely to get distracted from her current conversation, and to intervene with Marceline and Nevan. She could also soothe all of Camille's emotions just a little, and then let her jealousy and protectiveness stand out. It wouldn't hurt would it? Surely Colette would want her to save face as much as possible, and it wouldn't be good for her house is Camille Deveaux witnessed her conversation with Alistair Casuana. The soothing wouldn't be an abuse of her power, it would would be an acceptable strategy for damage control. Marceline wasn't present, but the room was so full of people that Ferrah was fairly certain she could get away with a quick soothing unnoticed.

Tentatively, she reached inside and burned Brass, focusing in on Camille and preparing to isolate the emotions she wanted to soothe away. How dare you use your powers for personal gain, you little abomination! Do you really think your paltry justifications stand up? Your power is dangerous, and you are obviously incapable of handling it on your own. The memory was so strong Ferrah could almost hear her father's voice in her ears, and she extinguished her brass immediately, leaving Camille's emotions largely untouched. What had she been thinking, soothing without direction? Meddling with peoples emotions on her own, without supervision or even a smoker, was the surest way to court disaster.

The other girls were beginning to look at Ferrah strangely, no doubt wondering why she had yet to leave the table, or why her face had gone pale. Thankfully, Alistair chose that moment to leave Camille's company. As if on cue, Camille spun and stalked over towards Nevan. Ferrah smiled and rose, hoping false confidence would give way to the real thing.

"Well Ladies, I'll have to leave gawking at Marceline's inevitable failure in your capable hands. Wish me luck!" As she rose gracefully and left the table, Ferrah couldn't help but run through the conversation that would undoubtedly start as soon as she was out of earshot. I can't believe she actually bought him! Can you believe she didn't see it coming? What an idiot! Ferrah tried her best to breathe. It wouldn't do to approach Alistair Casuana in a visible state of distress.

"Lord Alistair," she said as she neared the solitary nobleman, "I must say it's been a while. Are you enjoying the ball?"

It seemed like Alistair had only just left Camille's company before someone decided to approach him. Not that he really noticed it, at first. No, he was far to focused on what he planned to say, what answers he might get, and how he was even supposed to make his way over to Ari without being far too obvious about it. It was only when he heard his name spoken that he stopped and took notice of the here and now and saw the young woman who had approached him. For a moment, he just stared at her in bemusement. Then she finished the rest of her sentence and his mind went blank as the panic set in.

She couldn't be much younger than him, after all. And she was pretty. Pretty, and small, and blonde, and she seemed to think they knew each other in the past. And if Alistair did not know who she was, he was pretty sure he knew how he'd known her. There weren't all that many ways he'd ever spent time with women.

So, rather than answering her as he should, politely dancing around the fact he had absolutely no idea who she was or how they knew each other, he stared at her in dead silence for several seconds as the panic continued to set in, because why now of all the bloody times? He thought he'd already scared any of his old flames off with how he acted in Austrex. Why would any of them want to talk to him, especially now? Not for any good reason, surely.

That realization made it quite easy to open his mouth and say, each word spoken with the grace of a brick to face, "I'm sorry, I don't think we've ever met." Before he continued walking, a little quicker than before.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've ever met." Ferrah felt her body freeze in place as Alistair spun on his heels and walked away. How could she have been so stupid to allow for such a humiliation to occur? Of course he would not know her--she could hardly expect Alistair Casuana to keep track of the who's who at court as well as she did. How could she have been so careless?

Ferrah took a breath, trying to still her racing heart and plan her next move. Turning back now would result in a blow to her standing and an embarrassing defeat in front of the group she was supposed to be corralling into order. What would Colette think when she heard of this embarassment? On the other hand, pursuing Alistair Casuana and potentially getting rejected once again in front pf the assembled nobility was also not an option. The thought of being so bold as to pursue him after the cool dismissal made Ferrah want to crawl down under a table and hide.

You can do this. Ferrah forced herself to smile and made her way back to the table gracefully. "Poor Alistair has suffered an injury that prevents him from dancing, apparently. It sounds like an excuse to cover up for a lack of skill if you ask me, but he can hardly be blamed after last week's embarassment. He promised to ask me again at the next ball, so my rejection will have to wait, I suppose. After all, I would hardly consent to dance with him after how he's behaved if not for this silly little game." Ferrah's mind continued to race, wondering how she could ensure Alistair would ask her to dance at the next ball, and how she could find further support for her lie. "I'll take another partner to be fair if someone else has a sale they want to give me, and a drink for good measure." Ferrah took a swig of her wine, hoping the beverage would calm her nerves. A small part of her wanted to soothe the other girls to make them more trusting, but her reluctance to use her powers proved stronger than her embarrassment.

"So, who else sold a dance partner to me? And who wants to go next once Marceline is done embarrassing herself." For the first time since her return, Ferrah allowed her gaze to travel over to where Marceline was standing abandoned on the dance floor. "Did Nevan reject her? Lord Ruler girls, you simply must fill me in before she gets back!"

Alistair's quickstep away from the socialite ebbed as soon as he was sure she was not going to try and reengage. In fact, walking forward at all soon became a struggle. Not because there was anyone in his way, but because that interruption had been just enough to let the second guessing begin.

Was he really doing this? Crawling back to Arisella just so that she might tell him to leave a second time? Did he hate himself so thoroughly that he wanted to be made a spectacle twice in as many balls? Why had he listened to Camille, anyway? What had been that unnaturally sincerity? Surely this was nothing but a monumentally stupid idea that he would only regret, so why even do it at all?

He realized he'd stopped walking. Not because he had decided to stop himself from speaking to Arisella. But rather because he'd arrived at her table. His racing thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. She hadn't noticed him, by unconscious decision he'd walked out of her eye line. A good plan, because if she'd caught sight of him he would have turned tail and fled.

What he did next was not planned so much as reflexive. A short step to the side to put him in her sight. A slight bow and polite smile to her and her... escort. "My Lady Arisella, Lord Cedric. It's a pleasure to see you. I hope I am not intruding."

He tried not to be too obvious as he turned his eyes to Arisella alone, his smile turning more gentle and genuine, "Lady Arisella, it has been quite a while since I last saw you in Austrex. Might I trouble you for a moment of your time to catch up?"

Ari had been staring at nothing, willing the time to pass faster so she could leave this miserable ball and go home, when someone stepped in front of her. One of her friends, maybe, or one of Cedric's? Who else could it be? She looked up to greet him, whoever it was, preparing her courtly smile---

But the words died in her throat as she locked eyes with Alistair Casuana.

The first thing that registered when she saw him was abject terror. What did he want? Had he finally come to confront her about the injustice she had done him? Would he be angry? Surely he would be angry; she was angry at herself! Of course he would be even more so!

Except he wasn't. He was smiling. A gentle, sincere smile like he used to give her all the time. He even called her his lady, just like he had before. Dare she hope that this might be what she'd wanted all along? Now, when she needed him the most?

"I--- of course," she finally managed after a moment of stunned silence, though her voice was quieter than she meant it to be. "It would be no trouble at all, my Lord." She cleared her throat before turning to Cedric. "Please excuse us, Cedric." She thought of adding that they would be back soon, but something told her they probably wouldn't. Best not to get caught in that obvious of a lie.

She tried to address Alistair again, telling him to lead on, but her voice caught in her throat. So instead, she merely offered him her hand as she stood, trusting him to take the lead on his own. Like he always had.